


Nothing Like Home

by Steamcraft



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beta Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Clothed Sex, Domestic, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, Extreme edging, Fingerfucking, First Time, First time nervousness, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mates, Oral Sex, Riding, Soulmates, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Derek Hale, italic abuse, unbelievable edging probably roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steamcraft/pseuds/Steamcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Derek knew Stiles was his mate when they shared their first kiss the second time they got off together.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Oh, fuck, Stiles," Derek had groaned and mouthed under the gasping human's ear, where the smell was thick. "Of course you are, of course you are," he panted as he rutted in the hollow of Stiles' hip.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like Home

"Hey!" Stiles yells when the laptop disappears beneath his fingers. His head swivels to see Derek standing at the other side of the coffee table, laptop balancing on one flat palm as the other hand scrolls through the bestiary's Hellenic section. Stiles must be catching up during down time; they haven't had an emergency since the Nogitsune almost two years ago.

Derek glances at him from the corner of his eye. "You think Medusa is going to slither her way into Beacon Hills?" he asks with a smirk.

"Hey, don't hate, man," Stiles says defensively and stands, reaching childishly for the laptop. He whines when Derek turns his back towards him. "We'd all be caught unawares one day, then us hopeless men would be turned to stone while the day saving is left to Lydia and her band of superhuman women."

Derek looks over his shoulder with an amused eyebrow. "That's sort of sexist."

"Nooo, forcing women to fight in high heels is sexist," Stiles says, hands making grabbing motions. "Lydia and Erica would wear high heels into battle for fun, probably to spike the heads of their enemies with six inches. Gimme my laptop."

Derek hums thoughtfully. "Cora's a sneaker girl, thank god," he adds and scrolls more. "What's the chances of a Hydra appearing out of nowhere?"

"Allison is fifty-fifty. Between the number of flat and heeled boots she has, there's no telling what she'd face Medusa in." He takes a couple steps around the table, but Derek mimics his movements. "Dude, come on, or I'll summon a Hydra to eat your head."

"I can see it now," Derek says and falls on the couch, raising the laptop last second out of Stiles' lunging grasp. The younger man's balance is overthrown, and his arms pinwheel as he falls across Derek's lap. Derek sets the computer on Stiles' lower back.

"'Headline news: three-headed dragon beheads man, swallows whole teen for not feeding the other mouths.'"

"Sounds like you, man, back when Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were yours," Stiles grunts as he shifts around until his legs dangle off the couch's arm. Derek grimaces. "I'd feed Boyd your head because he's always quiet and good, then Isaac and Erica would fight over who ate me, but it would be unfairly short because Erica's scary and Catwoman."

"For your sake I hope you're not calling Erica fat."

Stiles stiffens. "I am sooo _not_ calling her fat." His head turns and looks at him, his lips mouthing, ' _is she within hearing?_ '

Derek smirks, but Stiles has good reason for his fear. Ever since she's become more acquainted with Lydia within the pack, Erica has picked up some tactics from the Red Queen which includes a female supremacy lifestyle.

"You're safe for now," Derek assures him and Stiles relaxes. "Boyd says she's cantaloupe-shaped, not all that big yet." Soon Erica would really be shopping in the maternity section, then hoarding diapers and bibs.

Lydia would put herself in charge of renovating a room in the Hale house into a luxurious nursery. She'd hire experts to paint sceneries on the wall, have carpet installed, and purchase top-notch baby and mommy equipment and furniture. Then she'd pay all of them extra to nevermind the funny werewolf business they happened to witness.

Everyone else would be swept up in the madness unless Scott deemed it necessary to take a Man Vacation to the beach.

Derek gets a little lost in his vision that Stiles pokes him in the side, laughing, "Look at you! You're super stoked about this baby coming, and its not even your kid!"

Derek jabs him in the ribs, and Stiles squirms violently enough that Derek needs to quickly save the laptop from falling. He closes the top and sets it carefully on the table before laying his hands on Stiles' side.

"And?" he asks, quietly daring. He hears Stiles swallow and sees his fingers twitching.

"Move the table," Stiles warns, and Derek pushes the table out of harm's way with his foot because he foresees flailing limbs. Stiles sometimes reacts to touch like he's starving for it; casual embraces turn into bear hugs, a hand on his shoulder has him slinging an arm around their neck.

Then there are times like these where Stiles jerks at a lightest touch as if it burns because he's so ticklish. Derek's found all the places: the ribs below his armpits, behind his ears, the arches of his feet, his ankles, the back of his knees, and the dip where his lower back meets his ass.

Half of those areas used to be an awkward problem touching because they're also Stiles' erogenous zones. Used to be, until the day Stiles had boldly said, breathless and flushed underneath Derek, "Think you could tickle me into coming?"

Derek removes Stiles shoes and socks as an afterthought before kicking off his own. "And?" Derek prompts, prepared.

Stiles is tense when he replies, "You're such a freakin' proud papa wolf, its so ador- _ahhh_!" Derek wiggles two fingers between his ribs, and Stiles rolls over his lap and down the slope of his legs. He's twitching when he comes to a stop on his back, on top of Derek's outstretched feet.

"Oh God," he gasps as Derek moves his toes against his back, and Derek likes the view from where he's sitting when Stiles arches with spasms and his shirt hikes up. "Ah, ahaha!"

Derek smiles. "I could be, yes."

"Wh-what? God?" Stiles asks, eyeing him warily despite the happy grin on his face. Derek leans forward, his closest hand skirting around Stiles' belt loops before reaching for his ankles.

"A proud papa wolf," he says before encircling an ankle in his hand. The reaction is immediate and mad, and Derek can't help but laugh at Stiles' fish-flopping movements. His legs kick, entire body wriggling around crazily, and he's screaming out mercies and uncles full of laughter at the top of his lungs.

"Derek! Derek!! Jesus, fuck-! Ahh, _ahhhh_ , haha, Derek, _mercy_!!"

Stiles' free leg flings out and nearly knees Derek in the nose, but he releases the ankle to catch it and drags the leg into his lap.

"F-for a, a beta you're oddly do-domestic," Stiles comments between hitching breaths. He doesn't bother fixing his low-riding jeans or shirt, scrunched up above his abdomen.

"You mean in-between the line-up of mythological and supernatural creatures? Its the wolf," Derek replies distractedly. He rests the heel in the arch between his thumb and forefinger while his other hand traces around the toes and instep lightly. Stiles gives a content sigh and begins to relax after a few moments.

"Do you want kids of your own," Stiles starts and Derek's eyes flicker to his face, "or do you just want to be everyone's favorite uncle?"

Derek hears and sees the honest interest in the question, and he scrapes his fingernails down the foot's arch. Stiles jerks his foot away with a grunt, but Derek catches him by his pant leg and forces it back towards him, high enough to squeeze the back of his knee.

Stiles makes an odd noise, starting as a short-lived laugh and ending as a drawn-out groan. Heat spreads in his stomach when Derek watches Stiles' cheeks flush and he smells his growing arousal.

"Give me your other leg," Derek says.

Its a lot of moving. Stiles pushes the table further away as he scoots himself until his ass is between Derek's feet, and he drops his right leg on the cushion next to Derek's thigh. Derek slouches.

"Derek," Stiles says pointedly, tapping his fingers on the top of his foot. Derek lightly wrestles the hand beneath his foot.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Inquiring minds want to know," he answers.

They have a rather new relationship, heading on two years, and its one that Derek has found he surprisingly enjoys thoroughly. Even with the bits of bickering and the both of them having the tendency to hover, its been pleasant and _fun_. Derek doesn't want to scare Stiles away; isn't it too soon to be talking about kids? His parents had Laura within their first year of marriage, but they were mates, it was expected.

Derek knew Stiles was his mate when they shared their first kiss the second time they got off together.

The kiss had left a surging current of _rightness_ tingling under his skin, shocking him to the core. Then when he had breathed in from surprise, Derek's sense of smell was nearly overwhelmed with Stiles' new scents of _home_ and _honey almonds_.

"Oh, fuck, _Stiles_ ," Derek had groaned and mouthed under the gasping human's ear, where the smell was thick. "Of course you are, _of course_ you are," he panted as he rutted in the hollow of Stiles' hip.

He hadn't said anything to Stiles about it though, but sometimes Derek finds the teen lost in his own head while staring at Derek with longing and wonder. He often traces his lips with his fingers now, as if chasing a feeling there.

Derek's suspicious if Stiles had experienced anything when they kissed, but the Hale family didn't have any werewolf / human mates, therefore he wouldn't have even known if the human half had had a revelation.

"You don't have to answer, you know," Stiles' voice brings him back to the living room. Derek focuses on his face, not liking the embarrassed expression and smell he'd unintentionally caused. "Forget I asked, okay?"

"No," Derek responds quietly and brings a momentarily forgotten foot eye-level, and he kisses the ticklish insole. The foot spazzes against his face and he quickly moves it unless he gets a broken nose.

He watches Stiles watch him under hooded eyes, sees him swallow, lick his lips, parrots, "N-no?"

Derek puts a leg tightly under his arm, gripping the underside of Stiles knee. The teen's hips rise once and he throws his head back with a guttural sound.

"No, I won't forget about it," Derek says, then locks his other hand on the other ankle. Stiles right-out sobs at the conflicting stimulation, thrashing on the floor, hips rolling high in the air. Derek groans at the sight, squeezing the knee rhythmically.

"Ah, _ah_ , Der...! Ah, _Derek_!" Stiles cries out, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth floor.

"But to answer inquiring minds," Derek has to raise his voice over Stiles', "I'd like kids someday."

He lets him go, tugs the pant legs. "Get these off," he says gruffly and proceeds to pull his shirt over his head. He watches Stiles fumble with the button hole for a few seconds then carefully drawing down the zipper. Derek hears his relieved sigh, but doesn't see the evidence until Stiles has to raise his hips above the couch to push his jeans and boxers pass his thighs.

Derek can't resist pulling Stiles' hard cock a couple times, reveling in the sounds of his mate's pleasure.

" _Mmn_ , sh-sh _iiit_. Yeah, that’s good," Stiles moans, arching into the touch, sounding disappointed when the hand disappears to finish removing the jeans for him. They're tossed unconcernedly toward the table with his shirt, then Stiles' shirt, nothing in the pockets heavy enough to harm the laptop when they flop on top of it. Then without further distractions, Derek holds and drags Stiles' hips into his lap, his legs hooking over Derek's shoulders, and he bends his head down to flick circles around the head of Stiles' cock with his tongue.

A hand slaps onto his lower thigh, the furthest Stiles can reach from the floor, and Derek has to think about how he's positioned down there so he won't be balancing on his head. Derek can see his face each time his chest concaves, flushed, eyes clenched tight, and biting his lips. When Derek engulfs his cock as far as he can, the teeth release the lip and Stiles gasps.

“ _Jesus_ , Derek,”

Derek's fingertips pet the small of his back and hauls him higher. Stiles garbles nonsensical sounds, hips rolling gently, stutteringly. It makes Derek groan around him, shifting his own hips as he lets Stiles fuck his mouth. He jerks him closer, Stiles' cock hitting the back of his throat.

"Oh my god," Stiles exclaims. Derek has to pull back to breathe, not getting enough oxygen leaning over. He balances Stiles in the crook of one arm while he uses his hand to stroke him, thumbing the slit to slick his hand with the gathering pre-come and saliva.

" _Oh_ , Derek, that's..." He thrusts up into his hand with pitched moans, his hand clenching in Derek's thigh.

"Good?" Derek suggests, his voice raspy. The heels press into his back tightly at the sound, and Derek turns his head to kiss Stiles' shin as he twists his wrist every other tug.

Stiles groans. "Not enough. _Derek_!" He's shaking hard, close to release, but Derek squeezes around the cock's base to stave off orgasm.

"What do you want?" Derek asks and, because he can't help himself, sucks his mate's cock back into his mouth. Stiles _keens_ , thrusting up and Derek moans; Stiles is so receptive to him, its addicting.

Once he slows down, Stiles laughs breathlessly. "I want a lot of things, like world peace, or my dad to stop sneaking doughnuts into the station." He gasps when Derek rubs the small of his back, "B-but right now? Oh _my god, Derek_ , I- I..." But then he trails off, and Derek can sense his hesitance, whatever the reason being. Derek quickly readjusts him, sliding Stiles’ hips down his legs, and folding Stiles' own legs on either side of his thighs.

"Give me your hands," Derek says, and they grip his without a second's thought. Derek pulls Stiles upright into his lap with little trouble, only inhaling sharply at the new weight on his tightly confined erection. Stiles' cock jerks against his abdomen, his hips unconsciously rocking down on his in slow movements.

Derek hisses, gripping his waist. He slowly looks up the dotted expanse of skin, leaning forward to kiss a mole beside his nipple; its his favorite. Stiles' hands wind in his hair, holds him there, and Derek tongues at the nipple, gently places his teeth around the nub while his hand takes the other nipple between his fingertips, pinching lightly.

Stiles _grinds_ down on him with a rotating twist, cussing with each pulse of pre-come he slicks on Derek's chest, and Derek has to lean his forehead against Stiles' collarbone and grit his lip between his teeth to stay calm. His hands are clenching tightly on Stiles' hips, and he glances at the flushed, blissed-out expression, from Stiles' half-lidded glassy eyes to his open, panting mouth.

His tongue comes out to lick his redden lips, and Derek groans loudly before capturing Stiles' mouth with his own.

There's a reminding jolt at the connection, the voice in his head singsonging that he has his mate in his lap, but Derek ignores that when Stiles whimpers in the kiss, tugging on Derek's hair in his hands.

"Stiles," Derek says breathlessly as he pulls back to look at him. "What were you going to say? What do you want me to do?"

The teen doesn't meet his eye, looking up instead as his cheeks and ears redden further in embarrassment, and, _oh_ , isn't that interesting? Derek knows that whatever it is he wants, he's thinking about it because Stiles' arousal spikes higher.

"Have we done it before?" Derek asks, snaking a hand between them to seriously open his pants before he constricts his balls any longer. His briefs are wet and sticky when he urges Stiles up on his knees so Derek can slip his jeans and underwear down his thighs, then he hisses when his cock slides behind Stiles balls.

Stiles quickly grabs the base of his cock tightly with one hand, the other tugging his sac, his moan breaking with each jerk of his hips as he fights through a false orgasm, caught just in time.

Derek licks his lips, watching his face contort between pain and pleasure and determination. "Fuck, _Stiles_ ," he whispers, fingers digging in Stiles' thighs.

Stiles drops his head to Derek's shoulder, breathing deeply, shakily, and Derek's hands run up and down his sides, lightly pressing into his ticklish ribs to help take Stiles' mind off the edge. “That helps. I’m thinking of when I walked in Scott’s alone time. Quite effective.”

After a long moment, Stiles answers to his question, "Uh, no, we haven't done _it_."

"Is the ‘it’ you’re heavily implying _the_ it?" he guesses, pulse racing at the suggestion. There isn’t much left to check off on the list. Derek’s been waiting for Stiles to give the okay, to touch him intimately inside, and he would have waited forever. Being Stiles’ first boyfriend (and last, if Derek has anything to say on it), and first sexual experience, Derek wouldn’t have been surprised if penetrative sex hadn’t even crossed his mind.

" _Oh yes_ ," Stiles groans. He pushes Derek's hands down further than his hips, and Derek tentatively grabs his ass, kneading each cheek, and Stiles hums appreciatively and arches into the touch.

Derek matches the sound with a possessive growl, loving the shivers it causes. "Do you want me to finger you?" Derek teases by slipping his finger between his cheeks and Derek feels Stiles' face burn, wow.

"More," Stiles whispers.

"Fuck you?" Derek asks just as quietly, turning his face into the mole-speckled neck, making a few marks to match the one on his nipple. _Fuck_ , Derek wants him, to be inside him, drench him in his scent.

Stiles surges up and kisses him. " _Shut. your. dirty. mouth_ ," he says in between without heat, and its the first time Derek realizes he spoke without meaning to. The pad of his finger catches on Stiles' rim, and Stiles spreads his legs wantonly and lowers himself in Derek's lap. “Oh…”

"Shit, Stiles." Derek’s ears buzz from the blood rushing. "Please tell me you have lube hidden in the couch, or I'll be forced to drag you upstairs by your ankles."

“Oh, yes,” Stiles says, grinning, “drag me like a caveman. Bed now, fuck the Stiles, make O-face, ugh ugh.”

Derek chokes on a laugh, hands shifting to grip him under his thighs. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.” He leans forward with a hiss as their cocks slide against each other, then he carefully stands. Stiles’ limbs wrap around him securely.

“You love it,” Stiles says with a little difficulty. He sharply inhales in Derek’s neck with each step he takes.

“I do,” he replies honestly. He thinks he’s going to lose his pants along the way, but Stiles’ crossed ankles keep them from falling below his thighs. “What made you want this all of the sudden?” He ascends the stairs slowly, shifting his stance to balance them both.

Stiles snorts. “All of the sudden? Man, ah, I’ve been waiting for you to ask, like forever!” Derek hums.

“Forever?” he asks, teasing.

“Well, ever since you kissed me,” Stiles admits, voice soft. Derek almost trips on the top step while hope rises in his chest. Maybe Stiles _had_ felt the bond that day, as well.

“Yeah?”

He turns into his bedroom and lays Stiles on the bed. Stiles takes his time letting Derek go, leaving kisses on his shoulder before he relaxes against the pillows. Derek looks from his flushed face and dilated pupils down his marked neck and chest. There will be more of those by the time they're through.

Derek is about to kick off his pants when Stiles says, "Leave them on, Derek. I have detailed fantasies of you fucking me with your clothes on." Stiles licks his lips, his hand idly moving across his torso and playing with his nipples. Derek makes a low rumble in his chest.

"Like, the time we quickly pulled one off at my house as my dad was coming home? You stripped me bare while you left on your clothes. So, is that like, a dominance thing?"

Derek settles over him after he finds the lube in the drawer. His hands latch on to Stiles' and draw them over their heads. Derek presses onto him as Stiles presses up in a kiss that turns from filthy to sweet.

Releasing Stiles' lips, Derek breathes and grins at him. "No, its a 'you come messy and I wanted to smell it on my clothes'-thing. Glad it brought you something, though."

If possible, Stiles flushes brighter. Derek leans up and watches how far down the blush goes. It reaches the soft skin of his belly, and Derek lightly draws shapes there with his fingers, scraping against the hair that leads to Stiles' cock.

"Turn over," Derek says quietly when Stiles arches, and he kneels in-between his spread legs.

Unexpectedly, Stiles eyes go wide, heart racing. "I..." But he trails again, leaving Derek clueless. He's moving though, carefully swinging his legs on to the opposite sides of Derek and lying face down in the pillow.

Derek leans forward again, and he nearly covers all of Stiles beneath him. "Don't do that," he says. "I don't know why you're being so shy all of the sudden, but don't think you don't have a say in what we do. What are you thinking, Stiles?"

"I wanted to see you face," comes the muffled sound, and Derek flares with possessive heat. He turns his head, looking at Derek from the corner of his eye. "First time nervousness. I really have no idea what to expect here on out."

Derek huffs a laugh. "All the porn didn't prepare you?" He pulls back again and guides Stiles onto his knees, with his ass wiggling in the air. His fingers creep down the cleft and Stiles sighs.

"Contrary to belief, I've never watched gay porn," Stiles rambles while Derek opens the lube and squeezes it into his hand. "Why would I need to when we have all the good action going on here?"

"You don't say," Derek mutters just to keep him distracted as he presses against the hot, tight rim. Eases off, presses, circles, eases off again. Stiles' hands clench in the pillow, still above his head, and his body is making aborted motions of whether to move away or press back.

"Jesus..." Stiles says softly. Derek hums in agreement, smells the uncertain pleasure and rising lust from his mate, but takes it no further than the gentle tease. His other hand rubs encouragingly on the back of his thigh while he watches his fingers against Stiles' opening.

After a few minutes Stiles whines. " _Derek_ , give me more..."

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes flicking to his face. "How much?" Already Derek's pressing deeper into him with his middle finger. He pushes to the first digit, circles it around, and pulls back. He coats his fingers with more lube before pressing in slowly to the first knuckle.

Stiles hips stutter back into his hand, taking the finger deeper, and he inhales sharply, and Derek's withdrawing until Stiles clenches tight around him. "Keep it in," he says between gasps. Derek pushes it back in, hyper aware of any change in scent or pulse. He kisses the slope of Stiles' ass cheek, and his hips jerk again.

"A-another."

Derek does as he commands, withdrawing and inserting two slowly. Stiles shudders and makes a tight noise that has Derek pausing to let his mate adjust.

Stiles blinks at him with glazed eyes over his shoulder. "Move. C'mon-- _yesss_..." He hisses, throwing his face back into the pillow when Derek starts a shallow rhythm. Soon he moves with it, thrusts back to meet his fingers eagerly. Derek's other fingers grip into the thigh muscle.

"That's feeling... _so_ good, Derek..."

He has to clear his throat to respond. "You look amazing like this, Stiles. Wrapped around my fingers, throwing yourself on them..." Derek groans when Stiles' hole flutters around him at his words.

" _Derek_ , hnn-! I want to--" He thrashes when Derek quickly stops him from reaching for his cock, and it makes Derek's fingers slide across his prostate. Stiles gasps, arching his back as if punched. " _Ahhh_ , please, please- there- I want to come, let me?"

Derek has to take several deep breaths through his mouth. Stiles reeks of pleasure and honey almonds, and he can feel him teetering on the edge of release. Derek's cock pulses pre-come with empathy, dripping on the top comforter, and its all he can do to not rut them both into oblivion.

It is addicting to have someone so responsive, but he's positive its intensified when they're mated.

"One more," Derek says through his teeth. He lets go of Stiles' hand trustingly, watches it twitch with want, to lube his hand again. "I want to see you stretched on my fingers before I see how good you'll look on my cock."

"Y-you think it'll be enough for, for your knot?" Stiles asks quietly.

Derek freezes. "What? How did-?" Everyone in the pack has had sex, its not a secret, but what happens in the bedroom is usually kept under wraps. With the majority of them with heightened senses, no one _needs_ any extra details.

"Erica went into some details I rather not think about," he replies with an implied eye roll. "Something like how birth control should look into preventing buckets of magical werewolf sperm."

"Boyd can-?"

" _I rather not think about it_."

Derek huffs a laugh and slowly resumes his task. He gently presses in, loving Stiles' stuttering gasp. As he waits for the adjusting, he says, "I may. It's an uncommon trait to knot, more so for bitten wolves."

What he doesn't say, however, is that the percentage rises high in mates. Derek never gave it thought before, didn't have a reason to, yet all he can think about now is being tied to Stiles and how much he desperately wants that.

"Would you want me to?"

The high-pitched whine is unexpected, as is the sweetening scent of pleasure caused by words alone. "Yes. _Yes_. Anything you give me is more than fine. _Amazing_ in fact, _glorious_."

Stiles experimentally wiggles his hips with a long groan. Derek strokes inside him softly, patiently spreading his fingers to stretch the tight ring.

"S-so Scott-?"

"I _really_ don't want to think about it," Derek jests. With a short and breathless chuckle, Stiles' kicks back his foot, and it jars Derek's hand against his prostate again. His breath hitches and his hole clenches tightly around the fingers.

"Oh," Stiles breathes in surprise.

Then after two careful thrusts, he's fucking himself back on Derek's hand in earnest, hips grinding with each impale. Derek watches open mouthed while Stiles writhes with pitched cries every time he successfully hits his pleasure zone.

"Ah, _ah_ , yes, fuck me- Jesus, Derek-! Oh, _fuck_ , fuck Derek, I want your cock, fuck I'm gonna-" His breath keeps hitching and his hips falter out of rhythm until he comes untouched with a shout.

"Shit-" is all Derek says before he removes his fingers and flips a very boneless Stiles over, licking up the come that spurted over his chest. He tastes so good, and Derek takes his time cleaning as Stiles twitches occasionally in his haze.

Soon Stiles runs his fingers through Derek's hair, and he looks up to meet his gaze. Stiles smiles softly and Derek smiles back as he peppers kisses on his abdomen.

"Feeling good?" Derek asks.

"Dude, _soooo_ good. Part two?" Stiles suggests hopefully.

"Already?"

"I can catch up," he promises. "I wanna see if Erica, uh..." Stiles rolls his lips between his teeth. Derek tilts his head.

"What about Erica?" he asks.

"Nope." Stiles replies with a pop. "I'm mouthy after epic orgasms. We should really get on with the show for your sake, buddy." He glances down with a grin. "Purple isn't your color."

Derek ruts against him slowly and it feels _so_ good. "Maybe," he agrees a little breathlessly. "I've known you for a handful of years and you always manage to throw me in the loop. You're the strangest puzzle I've never completed."

Stiles lets out a surprised gush of laughter. "You'd get tired of me if you knew how I worked."

The sentence ends on a bitter note, and his scent changes a tad sour. Derek kisses up his chest to find Stiles' mouth. A couple moments has the kiss turning deep and heated, Derek's hands gripping the underside of his mate's thighs and hoisting his legs around Derek's waist.

Stiles pulls away with a hiss, fingers gripping Derek's shoulders. "Too much?" Derek asks as he pulls his jeans carefully around his thighs.

"Sensitive, but not bad," he says quietly. "Can you-- please, Derek? I need to--" Stiles isn't looking directly at him, maybe Derek's hairline or ear, but his eyes are earnest and bright. Derek studies him for a few seconds longer before sighing fondly.

"Hold tight around me, Stiles. We're going to roll."

Stiles makes a gleeful sound that Derek stores forever in his memory, and asks, "Am I gonna ride you? That was soooo on my list for our first time." His arms circle Derek's neck and tightens, and Derek has to take another second because his raging erection slides against Stiles' slowly hardening dick.

"Yeah, totally," he returns, choked. "I don't think purple is a color I like being." Stiles cackles as they tumble, looking like a victorious, smart-mouthed little shit when he sits tall on Derek's midsection. Right, not too far from the truth. His cock glides along the crack of his ass cheeks, and he shivers when Stiles takes him in a slick hand and guides him to his hole.

"Stiles," Derek grits as said young man circles the cockhead against the give waiting for him. "Don't fucking tease-- I'm so close to coming, you have no idea--"

"Yeah?" Stiles says distractedly, then finally sinks down carefully and doesn't stop until he's fully saddled. Derek wants to blackout he’s so _tightwonderfulhotsilkyrightamazingwet_ around him. Instead, his fingers clench at the bedsheets, claws testing the durability. When he eventually opens his eyes to observe Derek sees Stiles sitting stock still. His fingers are curling on Derek’s abdomen and his thighs are shaking, pulse rabbiting.

“Breathe, Stiles,” he says in a breath. He draws his knees up, bracketing Stiles’ frame, and his pants slide around his ankles. “Relax. You’re going to be okay. It’s not like you have a stick up your ass.”

That rewards Derek with another surprised laugh, and the clenching relaxes its death grip. “Nope, just your dick.” Stiles winces slightly when he shifts, body sagging more. The heartbeat steadies, and after several deep breaths Stiles seems as comfortable as he’s going to get. He’s looking down at Derek with wide eyes, like he can’t believe he’s there. His mouth is hanging open, tongue swiping the corners unconsciously.

All in all it’s pretty dorky, but it’s also pretty spectacular. Derek’s more than in love with this young man, his mate.

Derek swallows thickly. “Hey.”

His hands slide up Stiles’ thighs and rub circles on his hipbones before finding Stiles’ own hands. Stiles looks at their hands and back up to his eyes. He smiles beautifully.

“Hey.”

“I’d keep you,” Derek says suddenly, and Stiles’ starts. “If I solved you or not. If I had your whole sporadic morning routine down like the back of my hand. If you persist in wheat and whole grain and gut-wrenching vegan products. If you use the last of the toilet paper, don’t change the roll and not let anyone else know--”

“ _One time_ \--”

“Shut up, I’m making a speech.”

“Saaaappy speech, Derek!” His blush has intensified, Derek notes, though with embarrassment. “Dude, I get it. You love me, you want me, you want me to be your baby daddy.”

Derek snorts and jerks Stiles’ hands up to where he’s forced to lay chest to chest with him. Stiles gasps and rocks immediately in the changed position, ducking his hot face in Derek’s neck as he starts a shallow rhythm.

“Oh, that’s what… I’m talking about…” he says, and Derek agrees with a hum, sweat beading down his forehead.

“What I’m trying…to say…”

“Fuck now, talk late- _roohh_ …”

"Is if you'll...keep _me_..."

Stiles bites his collarbone, and Derek thrusts harder in him. Stiles makes a beautiful delirious sound when the prostate is struck.

Stiles heaves in a shuddery breath. "Am I your mate?" Derek looks down at him, hips slowing painfully.

"You are," he goes for honesty, pulse skyrocketing. "But only if you'll have me."

"You really have... _no idea_ how long I've hesitated asking to get off with you," his mate says firmly. He sets the motion again with swiveling hips and moans. "I knew it, too. Erica told me what it would... be like. When we kissed. It was like- like..."

"Coming home."

"Yeah..."

Derek guides Stiles to meet his mouth, grinding hard up in the delicious heat. He's not going to last, any moment now he's going to have the best orgasm in his life.

"Derek," Stiles sighs, braces his forearms on Derek’s chest as he rolls back on his cock. “You should have told me. You should've-- the things I was feeling-- I had no idea what it was until I asked.”

Derek’s hands slide down the rump of Stiles’ ass. He can almost touch where he’s inside him. “I didn’t want to hold you down. _Shit, Stiles_.”

“Yeah,” Stiles gasps. "But I want you. I want all of you, you _beautiful asshole_. Forever, hear me?"

It’s all grunts and moans from there, and Derek has to kick off his pants so he can brace his knees far apart for leverage. He holds Stiles by his hips and fucks hard into him, the slick drive and the sweet scent of them together, of Stiles’ pleasure, tumbling him so close, close-- Stiles puts his balance on one arm to tug at his leaking cock with his hand, breath hitching as he nears the edge with him.

“ _Derek_ , I’m gonna-- are you close? I’m gonna come again,” he says urgently and Derek nods. He can’t speak, all he can concentrate on is the feeling, yet distantly Derek can feel the knot. He can feel it growing, forcing Stiles to stretch with him. He’s tipping over the edge at Stiles’ tightening hole when he tenses with his own orgasm.

" _Derek_ ," Stiles groans long. “ _You’re_ \--”

“ _Stiles_ \--” Derek whines, his arms moving and wrapping around Stiles tightly as the younger man comes again, hard, gasping, full body twitching on his knot. It feels glorious. Derek hazes out for a moment, hips still grinding in deep into Stiles’ pliant body, still coming.

He feels it when Stiles blacks out from the over-stimulation. The younger man becomes boneless over him, and Derek listens to his pulse and scents him to make sure he’s fine. Stiles smell perfectly of satisfaction and pleasure and happiness; it makes Derek pleased.

By the time Stiles comes to awareness again, Derek’s knot is almost completely deflated and he’s worked them on their sides. Stiles blinks up at him with sleepy eyes and a smile and Derek smiles back.

“My leg is completely numb with your legs on it,” Stiles whispers, matter of fact. His hand raises and draws finger patterns across Derek’s cheek softly, and he nips at the hand.

“Give me a couple more minutes, I think, and I can move,” Derek says.

“I can’t believe I missed most of it.”

“I can’t believe I made you pass out.”

“I can’t believe you’re a sex god.”

“I can’t believe you smell so good with my come in you.”

Derek takes great enjoyment in watching the blush come to Stiles’ face again, and he ducks his head to scent him deeply behind his ear.

Stiles hums, content. “Now, you know who’s doing clean up, don’t you? Darling mate of mine?” Derek chuckles softly in Stiles’ skin. “I like that. I like being able to call you that. Mate.”

Derek pulls up to kiss him hard. Its passionate, but softens quickly. “I like hearing it from you. I like you knowing it. I like knowing you’re mine.”

“And Dorothy clicked her red slippers together and said _no place like home_ ,” Stiles comments. “I feel like I’m finally home, with pack, with my mate.”

“And you are.”

They both are.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr~](http://iblameitonmyadhd.tumblr.com/)


End file.
